Midnight, All Alone in the Moonlight
by MaryandMerlin
Summary: A snapshot into the life of Bill Weasley in the aftermath of his mistakes. Oneshot. BW/FD


**Author's Note: I actually wrote this as a headcannon a long time ago. I never posted it anywhere and it was a lot shorter but I think it held more power then, despite how I have changed. I hope you enjoy it regardless, it comes from a place in my heart.**

 **VERY belated birthday gift for Raven!**

 **DADA Assignment, Task 2 - Write about someone reliving their most painful memory over and over.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.**

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Midnight, All Alone in the Moonlight

Bill Weasley stood at the large window in the master bedroom of shell cottage. He looked out over the shadowed beach where the moonlit waves crashed against the shore.

There was no noise at this distance, not even a dull roar, but he could imagine it. He could feel the raw power of the waves, the sharp scent of brine hung in the air around him and saliva pooled in his mouth at the salt on his tongue.

Normally, it was the waves that captured his attention and soothed his insomnia, but not tonight. No, not even the power of nature could soothe him tonight. His nightmares only grew stronger as the full moon reached its peak.

The offending orb sat fat and low in the early morning darkness. So clear and defined against the black backdrop it captivated Bill's attention almost completely, but served only to cast him further into the past. His eyes stared, but remained unfocused, lost in the horrors of his own mind.

Bill knew he had been lucky, the attack, the wound, had not resulted in transformation, but he was a changed man. The memory was something that haunted him, and would continue to haunt him, forever. The stench of fear and wet dog. The flash of feral hunger and sharp teeth. The feel of his blood, and life, flowing away.

Bill shuddered in the warmth of the cottage. It took a few months for the correlation to snap into his mind, but eventually he noticed that the nightmares and insomnia were especially potent when the moon was full and waxing. During this period, the scars that covered his face and body throbbed rhythmically and his blood roared through his veins. The primitive instincts within him strained against their bindings, desperate to answer the silent call of his brother wolves.

In a way he was filled with as much shame as he was longing: for not being stronger or better, for not fighting back or escaping. He felt like a failure, not worthy of survival.

It was during these long nights that Bill felt the full weight of his survival. That he was aware of just how close he had come to succumbing to the blood and seduction of the wolf.

A dark longing stirred within him. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

A sudden stirring distracted him and Bill turned to look at Fleur. His beautiful, supportive wife was thrown into sharp relief in the bright moonlight. It smoothed over her pale face and glinted off her silky hair.

It was on nights like this that he was the most grateful for the light she brought to his life and yet he couldn't comprehend how he had been so lucky.

She was beautiful, so beautiful, and, well … he just wasn't. He never could be. In his darkest days, just after the attack, she had been the only thing keeping him going.

Fleur stirred again, pawing at the empty space where he was supposed to be sleeping. She shifted, turning onto her back towards the window. The covers slipped down to tangle in her legs, revealing the huge swell of her pregnant belly.

"Bill?" she mumbled sleepily. "Come back to bed, sweetheart. We're cold." Her tone was soft, thick with confusion, and her words were still heavily accented. The French lilt refused to lessen even after all these years on foreign soil.

Bill's lips pulled back into a decidedly wolfish grin and he prowled back to the bed, the moon and his memories discarded if not forgotten. He slid into bed beside her, his arms curling protectively around her and the bump.

Their unborn child.

As Fleur snuggled closer she sighed contentedly and the sound filled Bill with power, with hope. He had two lights now, memories be damned. Two reasons for living. Life was wonderful really, and it could only get better.

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 **Much Love, MaryandMerlin x**


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